


Hope

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: Strength to Try [1]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-05
Updated: 2008-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan Ivanova sees a face she never thought she'd see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weirdofromafar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=weirdofromafar).



> Date: 20-24 April 2008  
> Word Count: 878  
> Written for: AJ's Lusty Month of May 2008  
> Recipient: [](http://weirdofromafar.livejournal.com/profile)[**weirdofromafar**](http://weirdofromafar.livejournal.com/)  
>  Prompt: impossible odds  
> Summary: Susan Ivanova sees a face she never thought she'd see again.  
> Spoilers: This takes place a couple of years after Control was discovered.  
> Warning: Established lesbian couple. Don't like it? Don't read it.
> 
> Disclaimer: “Babylon 5,” the characters and situations depicted are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions, Warner Brothers, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This story is in no way affiliated with "Babylon 5,” J. Michael Straczynski, the production companies, or any representatives of Claudia Christian or Andrea Thompson. This story contains content between two mature, consenting adult females.  
> Author's Notes: I don't write for this couple often enough…And I really do adore them, especially Susan… *heh*
> 
> Author's Notes 2: Anything in _italics_ is thought, not said.
> 
> Dedication: my muses, as always…
> 
> Beta: [](http://cuspofqueens.livejournal.com/profile)[**cuspofqueens**](http://cuspofqueens.livejournal.com/)

This is not happening.

"Susan?"

That warm, rich voice surrounds me, a cushion of honeyed silk. Instantly, my mental shields are up; I won't be so totally swayed. Not again.

"Is it really you?"

I'd ask that same question, but I know the answer. This person before me is most certainly not who she appears to be. That woman has been long dead to me and anyone else who knew her. I've no idea what kind of game she's playing -- or would that be Psi Corps? -- but she won't trick me.

"Susan, please say something. Tell me I'm not hallucinating."

She won't take a step toward me, but I can feel the softest tendrils of thought trying to insinuate past my shields. So tentative, so hesitant. Just like those early forays into silent communion borne of hard-won trust. She's good, I'll grant her that, but I'm not that gullible any longer. Psi Corps has ruined my trust of any telepaths I come across by using the only telepath I've ever trusted outside of my mother.

"Susan, please."

She's practically begging now, tears filling those beautiful grey eyes. The one thing she knew would melt my defenses faster than anything else: her open vulnerability. But how much of this is real, and how much is cruel manipulation? For that matter, what was it back then? Didn't Control say it was all feigned anyway?

She rakes her hand through her hair. I can remember the sinful pleasures I took in running my fingers through that golden mane of hers, particularly that last night in my quarters before she left. Just the memory makes my heart clench. And that's when I realize she's not wearing those God forsaken gloves. The sight of her bare, pale hands brings back the very visceral sensation of tears being wiped, and then kissed, away from my cheeks.

"Obviously this isn't real," she growls, tone a scintillating blend of threatening and disappointed. "Bastards are still toying with me. Well fine. If it's titillation and blackmail you bastards want, then that's what you'll get."

Before I can react, her hands encompass my face, lips sliding softly against mine. I can't get too invested in this. It doesn't matter what she said, this could still be some sort of Psi Corp trick to root out underground telepaths; Bester never stopped gnawing on that particular bone. And I'll be damned if I let those bastards to do me what they did to my mother. Not even for Talia Winters.

Her fingers slide back, burying into my hair, and she moves closer. The scent of her perfume is intoxicating, sending me back to long-hidden fantasies and memories. Despite my better judgment, a moan softly bubbles up from my chest, but I won't move. I can't move. This isn't real.

 _~Susan~_

I blink at the whiskey-smooth whisper of her voice in my head; the shock falters my control just enough for her tongue to slip between my lips. Breathing harshly through my nose, I fight the urge to plunge my own fingers into her hair, pull her closer.

 _~Yes, let me in~_

The sensation of my nails breaking the skin in my palms is the penance I pay for resisting her further. I remember all too well the things Control said to me the day she left. How much of what we shared was actually Talia and how much was Control? I've struggled with these questions every single day since Control was unleashed.

A gentle brush of her thumb against my throat brings me back to the present and I find myself returning the kiss, vividly reminded of every naked touch we shared in the far too brief life of our affair. She moves closer, nipping at my lower lip before groaning loudly as she pulls back to look sharply over her shoulder.

"Damn it, Jason," she mutters, turning back to rest her forehead against mine. "I really hate it when you do that." For a long moment, I watch her controlling her breathing before I realize my hands have gone to her waist. "I don't want to leave… But if I don't leave, she'll know I'm still here, still biding my time until Jason and I can overpower her. It's the only way I can come back to you, Susan. Do you want--? Yes, I know, Jason, shut up!"

No, she can't leave, not like this. Without waiting to analyze what I'm doing, I lean in to kiss her again. If she's going to disappear again, if I'm going to have to deal with wrestling these feelings back into the gaping hole in my heart, I'm going to have one more sweet memory to get me through the endlessly lonely nights. This time, I take the lead and moan happily as she submits to my dominance of the kiss for what feels like forever. All too soon, she pulls back again and strokes my cheek.

"Listen for me, Susan," she whispers urgently. "Until we can stop her, it's too risky to do this again. But I'll be there in your dreams, whispering my feelings as you sleep. Please don't give up on me, on us."

"Hurry back," I finally murmur through a throat so dry, it's painful.


End file.
